Photographs and Memories
by sugarplumdreams
Summary: When framed photographs start randomly appearing in Emm's apartment and at the Sheriff's station, she refuses to acknowledge them. She knows they're all in cahoots — Killian and Henry and her mother — and while she silently sends them accusatory glares and outwardly denies it, the pictures warm her heart.


**A/N:** Based off a bts picture that Ginny tweeted of Jen and Colin sitting beside each other and laughing in the diner :)) I was also listening to Jason Reeves on repeat while I wrote this *sobbing* P.S. For Erin (intolerablystruck), Happy (belated) Birthday, luvbug :3 (Posted to Tumblr February 27, 2014.)

* * *

**Photographs and Memories**

When her mother drops by in the middle of the work day, the last thing Emma expects is for her to hand her a present. "What's that?" she wonders suspiciously, green eyes flickering to the gift bag then Snow as the other woman sits across from her.

"Open it," she smiles.

Her face scrunches and she sighs but doesn't move for the bag. "I really hate surprises."

Snow laughs and nudges it towards her. "You'll like this one. Come on, open it."

Emma grumbles and frowns, she doesn't like the overly chipper expression on her mother's face but she humors her and begins pulling the white tissue hanging out from the top of the present. She peeks in and her brow furrows as she pulls out a frame. Her expression goes soft as she looks at it and her heart stutters in her chest. _Oh._

It's a photo of her and Killian at Granny's, laughing and looking the happiest they've been in…forever. Her gaze darts to meet Snow's and she doesn't bother trying to hide the tears that have sprung up into her eyes and threaten to spill over.

Snow gives her a knowing smile then reaches out for the picture, pulling open the stand and setting it on her desk next to the other three she has. "There, now you have one with everyone."

Emma stares at the picture, at the set of them on her desk, dumbstruck and feeling far too much than any one person should feel. _God. _"I…I- I don't-"

Her mother rises from her seat then covers her hand and squeezes comfortingly. "We'll see you guys at dinner tonight, don't work too hard."

That's all she says as she leaves and Emma suddenly finds herself alone with a picture on her desk and a sweet ache in her heart.

* * *

The next day, _he_ happens to stop by for a visit.

"Oh, for God's sake, I am _working_," she hisses, trying her damnedest to ignore the feather light kisses being left over the curve between her neck and shoulder as he leans over her from behind. He chuckles quietly, teeth grazing along warming skin, and her body shudders involuntarily. _Damn it._ She should have left her hair down today, not that it would have stopped him, but still.

"Henry taught me a new word yesterday."

Her eyes roll at that and she sighs. "Great."

"I thought you wanted me to be better versed in your realm?"

She can feel his smile against her shoulder and she wants to hit him. "I'm almost afraid to ask." His nose brushes over her pulse point just below her ear and as he nuzzles his face into her hair, she wants to sigh again.

"_Hooky_," he tells her, the word sounds so salacious on his tongue.

Emma shakes her head but doesn't reply, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"Ironic isn't it, all things considering?" His voice is full of amusement.

She's going to kill Henry, she's going to ground him into oblivion. "I'm not going to play hooky with you."

"I'll make it worth your while," he offers in his lilting accent.

Oh, she has no doubt about that, but the mound of paperwork on her desk isn't going to finish itself. She's about to reply when she suddenly feels him stiffen beside her and judging by the direction of his stare, he's seen the picture on her desk. _Shit_. Her heart leaps into her throat. _Shit, shit, shit._

The silence hangs in the air and Emma has to resist fidgeting in her seat as her stomach clenches anxiously. He straightens slightly, reaching for the photograph and bringing it close to examine it. Emma gulps, trying to steady her breathing.

"Swan-"

"It's just a picture," she cuts in, hoping her voice sounds casual and nonchalant rather than mirroring her panicked state. "My mother dropped it by yesterday."

He doesn't reply for the longest time and she has to sit there in agony as the heat crawls up her neck and into her cheeks. "I see."

She refuses to look at him, she _can't_…if she does, she'll lose it. Eventually he sets the picture back down and returns to his spot behind her, leaning over to rest his chin against her shoulder.

Emma's heart squeezes as unspoken words drift between them. She tips her head to his, pressing the sides of their faces together. After a moment they move, in perfect synchronicity so that his nose brushes against her cheek as they turn towards each other. His lips are there, trailing from cheekbone to temple and this time she does sigh.

Instinctively she tilts her face up and his mouth presses firmly into hers. He lingers but doesn't deepen and Emma breaks the kiss only to peck at his lips once…twice…three times. There are no words, only feelings, endless amounts of feelings.

* * *

When framed photographs start randomly appearing in her apartment and at the Sheriff's station, she refuses to acknowledge them. She knows they're all in cahoots — him and Henry and her mother — and while she silently sends them accusatory glares and outwardly denies it, the pictures warm her heart.

One morning, with a cup of coffee in her hand, she stares at the wall of her home and takes stock of all the frames that have accumulated there. There's a picture of her and Hook walking through the snow — her in her leather jacket and beanie and him in his ridiculous long coat, a photo of him and Henry after they'd finally convinced him to wear clothes from this realm…there's even a photo of him singing to her.

Her favorites are the candids, not that she tells anyone, but they're the closest to her heart because of the moments they capture. This is her life, in split-seconds and freeze-frames, and there's so much happiness here, more than she ever thought she'd ever have.

His warm, familiar arms come around her from behind and his hand holds a wrapped, rectangular gift in front of her face. She rolls her eyes but she can't keep the smile from tugging up the corners of her mouth.

"Another one?" she asks, turning around to face him.

He merely grins at her and takes her mug when she takes the frame so her hands are free to unwrap it.

It's of the two of them in a snowy field with the sun setting in the background. They look so tiny in the corner, but she can make out his coat and her beanie and the little detail of them holding hands. It's beautiful and she loves it and _ugh._

"You're a weasel," she mutters.

He takes a sip from her cup. "I prefer 'pirate,' thank you, and a very handsome one at that."

Emma shakes her head but slides into his arms, mouth seeking his.

* * *

She glances up at him as he comes through the door of the Captain's quarters then returns to her hammering a nail onto the wall.

"What the bloody hell are you doing to my ship?" he asks.

She rolls her eyes but doesn't answer. You'd think she was defiling it or something, geez. Emma sets her tool down then picks up a frame sitting on his table. His interest is piqued, she can tell by his silence and the way he walks over to join her as she hangs it up.

It's a photograph of the three of them — his pirate family, as Henry keeps insisting — of her and him smiling and looking at each other over Henry's head while Henry makes a silly face at the camera.

"Do you like it?" she wonders quietly. She doesn't realize she's nervous until she asks.

His arm slips around her shoulders and he draws her into his side so they can look at it together. "I love it," he answers, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "I love _you_," he murmurs quietly after a moment.

Warmth floods her but his words don't scare her. It's been a long time coming, an inevitable place for them to end up. Her heart still tightens in her chest though, because to finally _hear_ the words from his lips is still a little bit of a surprise, but no, they don't scare her.

Emma's arms hug his waist and she nuzzles her face against his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw. "I love you too, you idiot."

* * *

Years later, before the dawn rises, Emma stands at the foot of their bed with a smile on her face as she watches him sleep. There's a ring on her finger and a gift bag in her hands. She takes a deep breath, steeling her nerve as she walks over to set the present on the nightstand then gently eases onto the bed. She crawls over him — knees straddling his hips, hands on either side of him — but she doesn't put her weight on him. She pulls him from sleep with soft kisses up his bare torso, lingering over his mouth until he comes more fully awake and his hand reaches up to cradle the back of her head. Emma pulls away with one last kiss and his favorite smile on her lips.

"Mmm," he hums in approval. "I'd be careful if I were you." His voice is gruff from sleep but his smile matches hers. "I've a jealous wife with a mean right hook."

She finally moves over him, settling comfortably on top of him and kisses him again just because she can. "Then it's a good thing I have connections at the Sheriff's station."

His hand reaches for hers, brings it up to his lips so that he can kiss at her knuckles. He rests her hand over his heart and when his thumb brushes over the rings on her ring finger, Emma's heart swells.

"You're up early," he comments. "Still feeling ill?"

Her grin is huge as she shakes her head. "No, I feel perfect." She stares at him for another minute, memorizing every single thing about the moment - the blue of his eyes, the expression on his face, and for the first time, she wishes she had a camera handy.

"I have something for you," she tells him, reaching over for the gift and dropping it onto his chest.

He chuckles, hand tipping the bag down so that he can reach inside. "Another one?"

"Yeah," she says simply, watching him carefully with her heart hammering in her chest.

His brow furrows as he looks at it, turning it around as if trying to discern which way was the right-side up. "Hmm…darling, I think we need to change the cartridge on our printer…this is naught but a fuzzy, black and gray picture."

Emma laughs and happy tears pool behind her eyes. "This is called an ultrasound…and _that_," she points at a tiny bean-shaped blob. "Is a baby." His eyes snap to hers and the tears spill over at the shock and disbelief in his eyes. "Our baby," she says quietly.

"Our- you- _Gods_, you're with child?"

She gives something between a laugh and a sob as she nods her head at him. "Yeah…I'm pregnant. You're going to be a dad."

He holds her gaze for two heartbeats before his eyes light up and he gives her a face-splitting grin. He makes some overjoyed 'whoop' then suddenly flips them over, crushing his mouth to hers and kissing her breathless. When he pulls away she cups his face between her hands and wipes away the mix of his tears and her tears on his face.

"We have to hang this with the others," he tells her.

"Naturally," she replies.

"We're having a baby," he repeats.

She laughs again, her heart full and light. "Yes, we are having a baby." Her fingertips graze over the scar on his cheek. "I love you."

He smiles at her once more, dips his head to press his lips against hers. "I love you, Emma."

_Fin_


End file.
